


A Study in Emerald

by GuestPlease



Series: Albus Severus Potter- Consulting Detective [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rose is a nice person, and all the GuestPlease(tm) original character siblings that are planned for BAON will appear here, and if I do, listen I don't actually like killing characters off, listen both Albus and Scorpius are huge nerds, listen we're not going by Cursed Child here, most of the characters will be Weasleys, shenanigans ensue, so please enjoy Detective Inspector Cedric Diggory, well maybe I don't know exactly how it's going to go yet.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuestPlease/pseuds/GuestPlease
Summary: Dr. Scorpius Malfoy just really needs a place to stay. Albus Severus Potter needs a flatmate/someone who won't question all of his decisions (looking at you, Rose). And of course, there are dead people (such as someone in the tags, spoiler alert), there are resurrected people, and only Albus out of the entire city of London (8.674 million people, including actual, qualified police officers) and his not-boyfriend can save everybody from a serial killer.





	1. I used up Craig too quickly

Doctor Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy had a bit of a problem.

Well, he had several problems, not least of all his name.

But at this very moment, he had a bigger problem; he had nowhere to stay. He was already coming up with solutions, such as meeting with his… well, they weren’t friends… former classmate… (his name was Craig, wasn’t it? Something to do with Bowser Jr.?) Craig Koopa to try and beg a bed. Or a couch. Or a chair. Honestly, he wasn’t very picky.

Finally, Craig showed up.  
“Hey, Scorpius. How are you?” Craig asked, sitting down next to Scorpius.  
“Oh, I’m good thanks. I just finished a tour. How are you? How is your family?”  
Craig grinned. “The Bowker clan is growing steadily—Polly and I are expecting twins _again_!”  
Scorpius smiled politely. Apparently this man was in fact, _not_ named Koopa. “That’s wonderful, Craig. Boys or girls or both?”

“It’s a surprise!” Craig’s grin widened. “By which I mean that Polly won’t tell me, ha ha! I kid, I kid, Polly just wanted to know so she could get clothes, but I wanted a surprise. So what are you doing in London?”  
“Well, I was hoping I could live here after I finished my tour. I have a few job interviews lined up—one’s back at St. Bart’s. Do you know anywhere that I could sleep until I find a flat? Anyone in need of a flatmate?”

Craig, somehow, lit up even further. “I do! I know just the man—let’s go see him right now.”  
“Right now? Isn’t he busy? Doesn’t he have work?” Scorpius asked in surprise.  
Craig paused for a moment. “He’s… self-employed.”  
Scorpius desperately hoped that he wasn’t being led to an unemployed junkie that Craig had somehow befriended who happened to hang around St. Bart’s.

\-----------------------

If anyone bothered to ask Albus Severus Potter, he would point out that he was currently clean, and he _was_ employed, thank you very much. Just because he created his job himself, that didn’t mean that he was begging for sixpence on the street. The part about St. Bart’s was completely irrelevant anyway, he never stepped foot in the main hospital.

“Coffee?” The actual mortician whose office he had commandeered asked him, handing him a Starbucks cup and glancing down at the body in front of them. “So, why did you hit my nice clean corpse with a riding crop like some sort of Christian Grey crossed with Edward Cullen?”  
“The murderer was _not_ the jockey.” Albus said after a moment’s pause. “That only leaves the stable boy murdering the heiress, which _means_ it was a crime of passion.”  
“Ah, of course.” Rose Granger-Weasley, Albus’ cousin, sipped her own coffee. “How does mutilating Mr. Belvedere mean that it was a crime of passion?”

“Why else would the stable boy murder the heiress and blame the jockey who she was going to marry instead of him?”  
“I think you’ve been watching too many rubbish telly shows.” Rose snickered.  
Albus stuck out his tongue at her. “Now that’s just rude. And I don’t have time to explain my findings to you, I need to text Diggory down at Scotland Yard before they hang the jockey.”  
“We don’t _hang_ people anymore. It’s 2016, not 1816.” Rose snorted.  
Albus waved her off, pulling out his phone. “Regardless.”

As soon as he finished texting Detective Inspector Diggory, a man poked his head in. “Knock knock.”  
“Ah, Greg. Come in.”  
“Craig. You have to enunciate.” Craig sighed, before stepping aside and letting a blond man Albus’ age enter.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Scorpius Malfoy.”  
Albus regarded him with interest. A Malfoy? But looking at his clothes, they were simple, fairly dusty, and almost all from Primark. Nevertheless, he filed away the information for later if need be. “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Excuse me?”  
“Were you stationed in Afghanistan or Iraq?” Albus elaborated.  
Scorpius blinked in surprise, before smiling. “Oh, Craig must have told you.”

“Greg didn’t tell me anything.”  
“ _Craig_.” Said man sighed.  
“He does it whenever he thinks people are getting too close. He learned it from ‘Parks and Recreation’.” Rose whispered conspiratorially to him.  
Scorpius and Albus ignored them.

“Really? Then how did you know?”  
Albus circled Scorpius. “You have a tear in your jacket’s elbow. You fixed it with a lambert stitch, commonly used by surgeons. You were recently wounded, so you carry the cane. You’re not used to it, so you haven’t adjusted yet.”  
“What if he got hurt another way? Gang wars in America, maybe?” Rose asked.

Albus shot her a cold look. “I _assumed_ , given he is British, and has not lost his accent, that he was around British soldiers. We’re currently in Afghanistan, and Iraq, and all other posts are reasonably safe. He wouldn’t have been shot in _Brunei_ , Rose.”  
“I’m impressed.” Scorpius grinned. “Anything else you know?”  
“Yes, your therapist believes your wound is psychological. Therapists often don’t work as well as one would like in my opinion. I would actually need to see your leg in action to determine whether she’s right or not.”

“How did you know my therapist is female?”  
“You smell like perfume. You’ve just come from her, you’re somewhat more tense, and Mike is fairly easy going. Should I go on?”  
“No, I don’t think so.” Scorpius smiled. “You truly have a gift.”  
Albus’ eyes widened as Rose cooed in his ear, “Ooh, Albus, I think he likes you.”

“Gagh—Rose! Anyway, will you take the flat, or not? It’s in central London, I happen to think it’s quite nice.”  
“Well, that depends. What’s the rent share?”  
“I’ll take care of rent if you take care of groceries and cooking.”  
“That’s all? Central London is expensive.”  
“I have it handled.” Albus shrugged. “Well, sort of. Hence the need for a flatmate. Also, I’m not particularly good at making friends, and I play violin at any hour. And I _mean_ any hour. Does that bother you?”

“It’s fine with me, I adore violin music.” Scorpius smiled. “What time should I come round to look at the flat?”  
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m usually there if I’m not here. Any time, really? Anyway, I have a case. Goodbye, Dr. Malfoy.” With that, Albus dashed off.

“He seems nice.” Scorpius commented.  
Rose snorted so hard she nearly inhaled her coffee. “That’s his _good_ behaviour. He’s outed several of our cousins before he realized that wasn’t alright and people don’t find you that clever when their secrets are being told to anyone who will listen. He also has an inferiority complex, if not several, and father issues. I’m Rose, by the way. His cousin, best friend, and person willing to tolerate him. He lives at 221B Baker Street. Next to the sandwich shop.”

“So why is he looking for a flatmate? Especially…” Scorpius gestured to himself.  
Rose sighed. “Remember that friend problem?”  
“Yes, I have the same one. People… people don’t seem to like talking to me that much. Well, they do, but never beyond the surface. We’re just not… compatible, I guess? Ah, I’m rambling.” Scorpius scratched the back of his head. “I’m going to go. Thank you both for being here.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Rose said, “They were made for each other.”  
“Oh, yes, they really were.” Craig agreed.  


	2. Well, I guess he has to take the flat now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aiming for more Gay than the BBC show but I cannot write Albus and Scorpius as gay as the Cursed Child (which I hate anyway) but that won't stop me from shooting for it.

It wasn’t that hard to get a cab down to Baker Street, and an old woman let him in.   
“You’re here about the flat?” She asked.   
“Oh, yes, please. He said he’d cover the rent, but all the same, how much is it?”   
The old woman waved him in, having him sit at her table. “Oh, let’s see now… I only charge him about 300 pounds per week.”   
Scorpius nearly dropped the mug she pressed into his hand. “ _Three hundred pounds_? In central London? How big is the flat?”  
“Two bedrooms, but I don’t think you’ll be needing it.” Mrs. Figg winked.   
Scorpius flushed. “We just met… how did you give him _300 pounds_?” 

“Well, I owe him, you see. A few years back, there was this terrible do with my husband, Mr. Figg. We’d been separated for years, I used to live in a nice little place in Surrey, where I met Albus’ father as a boy. Well, we hit it off, and he introduced his children to me. Such little dears. But then, my husband Gerald came back, and he nearly murdered me. He scared me back to London. He then turned up a few months later, and stole my Mr. Tibbles. Murdered him brutally too… and of course he did many other things I’d rather not mention. Didn’t even leave a trace! But Albus was just coming into his detective work, and he proved Gerald did it. Gerald is still in prison.” 

Scorpius honestly didn’t want to know what Gerald had done if the least evil thing he had done was brutally murder this poor woman’s cat. “Oh my… may I see the flat?”   
“Of course, dearie. Albus has already moved in, it’s a bit of a mess—do you clean? It’s just that he’s rather messy, and I’m actually not the housekeeper.”   
“Oh, well, I suppose I could clean up every once in a… oh my god he’s a hoarder.”   
“Well, that’s one, surprisingly accurate, way of putting it.” Mrs. Figg sighed as they surveyed the surrounding area.

“It’s a little early for Halloween, right?” Scorpius asked, examining a skull on the mantle.   
“Well, I mean, it’s a _real_ skull.” Albus said right behind him.   
Scorpius dropped the skull in surprise, and Albus dived for it. He missed, and bumped his head on the fireplace.

“Owww…” he hissed.   
“Oh, let me look at you.” Scorpius clucked, helping Albus into a chair. “Well, you’re not bleeding. Let me see your eyes.”   
Albus’ pupils were fine, but Scorpius honestly found himself drawn to the piercing green of the irises. God, if that didn’t sound like some sort of romance novel that his Aunt Sue read.

“Will you be needing the other bedroom, then?” Mrs. Figg asked after what must have been five minutes or so of Albus and Scorpius staring at each other.   
“No, Mrs. Figg, I don’t think we shall.” Albus said brusquely.

“ _What_?! We just met!” Scorpius waved his arms in the air.   
“Well, you have a hard time getting up and down the stairs with that leg.” Albus pointed out.   
Scorpius buried his face in his hands. “That doesn’t mean that I want to sleep with a man that I have just met.”   
“What are you talking about?” Albus asked, before realizing. “ _Oh_. I thought you could stay on the couch until your leg… ahem. Well. So, have you heard about those murders? The suicides that are all exactly the same?”

“Cult.”   
“Wh-no, how do you know that?” Albus demanded.   
“I don’t, I just guess cult whenever that sort of thing comes up.” Scorpius smiled. “But three suicides that are all the same… seems rather like a cult.”   
Albus’ phone pinged. “Four, I should think… there’s been another.”   
“Couldn’t it just be your cellphone service? Or your mother?” Mrs. Figg pointed out. “Remember when you thought the Banchory—”

“Alright I get it.” Albus hissed. “Anyway, I need an assistant. Scorpius, come with me down to the crime scene.”   
“I need to get my things—”   
“Things can _wait_. I need to get to that crime scene as soon as possible.” Albus grabbed Scorpius’ hand.   
“Don’t they have professional forensic analysts?”   
“ _Scamander_.” Albus hissed with venom, still holding onto Scorpius.

“Okay… I assume the two of you don’t get along… like I said, I’m not a forensic analyst, but I’ll do my best.”   
“So the second bedroom…?” Mrs. Figg asked as Albus pulled Scorpius down to the landing and outside of 221B Baker Street. A few seconds later, they were in a cab.

“So… why are you going there?” Scorpius craned his head to look at the address on Albus' phone.   
“Lauriston Gardens. Diggory texted me, ergo something has changed. Ergo I can solve it.”   
“I see… what do you _do_ , exactly? For work?”

“I am a consulting detective.”   
“What’s that, exactly?”   
“I solve cases.”

“But you’re not employed by the police department?”   
Albus scowled, crossing his arms. “No, police life is tedious. But they call me when they can’t solve a case.”   
“How do you know it’s tedious?” Scorpius probed gently.

“I don’t exactly have a wonderful relationship with my father.” Albus huffed in a tone that didn’t allow for elaboration.   
“I’m sorry.”   
“Oh don’t be. It’s all rather mutual in the end. Besides, I’ve got two more siblings, so he’s alright.”   
“…I meant I was sorry for you.”

Albus blinked in surprise. “Oh. Do-do you know who my father is?”   
“Should I?” Scorpius asked.   
Albus was silent for a moment, before he said, “No. No, you shouldn’t.”  
“Well, let’s talk about something happier, shall we?” Scorpius said. “For example, did you know I have a secret sugar addiction?”

“Yes.” Albus answered, but he smiled.   
Scorpius looked surprised, but then returned to his smile. “Well, right, of course _you_ knew. Just don’t tell my family, alright? Mother—Mum would be mad.”   
They both laughed.

“You know you truly—”   
“There are worse—”

Both of them spoke at the same time, then stopped.   
“You first.” Scorpius said.   
“No, you. It’s not that important.”   
“Well, I was just going to say that you truly have a gift—I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as brilliant as you, and I’ve only just met you.”   
Albus’ mouth felt dry. “I was just… I was just going to say that there are worse things to be addicted to.”

“Are you alright?” Scorpius asked.   
Albus cleared his throat. “Perfectly fine… thank you. Oh, look, we’ve arrived.”   
Albus threw money at the cab driver’s now open window, not stopping to count it, while Scorpius apologized and followed.   
“That was a bit rude.” Scorpius said gently.

“I am a rude person.”   
“No you’re not.”   
“Yes I am.”   
“No, you’re not.”   
“ _Yes_ , I _am_. I am rude and surly and stubborn and I have numerous other flaws that I will list off anytime, anywhere, but the Scamanders are lurking nearby and we have work to do.”

With that, Albus took Scorpius’ hand and pulled him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apartments in central London with two bedrooms are 800-1200 pounds per week. 
> 
> Be prepared for the Scamander twins.


	3. TFW you meet your boyfriend's brother

Two identical men were on the fringe of the crime scene, smoking cigarettes in unison.   
“Freak.” One muttered a greeting to Albus.   
“Who’s the blond?” The other asked, craning his head to get a look, his dark eyes flicking over Scorpius.

“Good question, Lys. Civilians aren’t really allowed on the premises.” The first one said, shooting Albus a pointed look.   
“I’m here as… a medical consultant.” Scorpius finally said.   
Neither Lys nor his brother seemed amused.

“I’m the forensic analyst here.” Lys huffed, glaring at Albus. “What are you playing at?”   
Albus glared back at the darker man. “I brought him because _he_ will work with me!”   
“Then he’s either crazy, or misinformed.” Lys’ brother commented.   
“Don’t know what he’ll find that I haven’t, but fine.” Lys said.

“Thank you, Lorcan, _Lysander_.”   
Scorpius smiled. “My name is Scorpius, by the way.”   
“We should start a club.” Lorcan commented. “But I just _know_ he won’t want to join, even if we’d take him.”

“A club?” Scorpius asked, while Albus hissed, “Well, I know _everything_. For example, you both live with your parents and you threw a party and trashed the house like teenagers!”   
“A club of unfortunate names.” Lorcan clarified while Lysander scoffed. “Oh yeah? Then you also know you weren’t invited!”   
“Well, _obviously_ I wasn’t invited!”

“Listen, I am simply trying to come up with a good comeback for you being an ass all the time!”   
“Well, _you_ started it.”   
“No, _you_.”   
“Oh look, blood.” Scorpius pulled Albus away from Lysander into the building. Albus handed him disposable latex gloves and a body suit, then dragged him over to the similarly dressed Detective Inspector Diggory.   
“Why aren’t you getting suited up?” Scorpius asked Albus.   
“He’s allergic to latex and he promised not to touch anything he shouldn’t, otherwise we’ll kick him out.” Diggory answered, handing Albus a pair of nitrile rubber gloves

“Diggory.” Albus hissed. He thanked his lucky stars his skin was dark enough to hide his blush, because it felt like his face was on fire. “You’re being _embarrassing_.”   
“Well, it’s better he knows now than later. Have you ever had to call an ambulance with your pants down? The paramedics can be so judgmental.” Diggory clucked, before turning to Scorpius. “Detective Inspector Cedric Diggory. Who are you?”   
“His flatmate, Dr. Scorpius Malfoy.”

“Oh, is _that_ what they’re calling it now?” Diggory smiled. “Well, don’t worry. I think it’s lovely he found someone, and I’m pleased to meet you.”   
“It’s very nice to meet you too, but we’re _not_ dating. We just met today. We’re not… I don’t think I need to know about his latex allergy. Ever, really. I’ve seen his apartment, and cleaning up after him is the least I can do if he’s got the rent covered completely…”

Albus pulled Scorpius backwards, glaring at Diggory. “Leave him alone. He’s my doctor because Scamander’s a ponce.”   
“Which one?”   
“Either one!” Albus growled. “But this is my doctor.”

Diggory’s face lit up. “Alright. He’s _your_ doctor.”  
“Yes, he is. Now, _please_ show us the body before I start analysing your life.”   
Diggory crossed his arms, his light salt and pepper hair flopping a bit as he shrugged. “Go on then.”   
“You and your wife are trying for a baby. You’ve gained several pounds that you’re self-conscious about, but your wife doesn’t mind. Also she’s finally taken those cooking classes and so you’re more relaxed because your dinner duty has lessened.”

Diggory grinned. “Last time I pissed you off like that, you told me my wife’s sister hated me, that I was far too easy-going on my dog, that my father was disappointed in me, and numerous other nasty things.”   
“It’s your own fault for being so happy.” Albus huffed. “Now, where is the body?”

“Oh, of course. It’s upstairs. By the way, my first date with Cho—”   
“This is not a date!” Albus hissed, before grabbing Scorpius’ hand and tugging him up the stairs. “Let it _go_ , Diggory!”   
Scorpius waved a bit before he was out of sight. Diggory followed them. “ _Anyway_ , this is Dolores Jane Umbridge. She works at the Ministry of Defence, some sort of secretary?”

A squat woman in a rather alarming amount of pink was lying face down on the floor the word ‘Michael’ scratched in front of her into the floorboards.   
Albus circled her for a moment, before asking, “Who’s Michael?”   
“That’s what we’ve been wondering. Husband?”

“No wedding ring.”   
“Did the killer steal it?”   
“Not unless he has the ability to remove shadows as well. No, Miss Umbridge never married.”   
“Boyfriend?” Scorpius asked.

“What? No. No no no. This woman loved her job more than anything else. There was no time for romance for her. Her phone would corroborate that. Where’s her phone?”   
Diggory shrugged, and Albus sighed. “Never mind that for now. Who can Michael possibly be though…?”   
“The killer?” Lysander poked his head in.

Albus glared at him. “Scamander, go away. You make me feel stupider just looking at you.”   
“ _Excuse me_?”   
“Lysander, please don’t start a fight with him now.” Diggory begged. “He’s on a roll.”

Albus gave a grin to Lysander that reminded Scorpius strongly of the look one of his siblings would give to each other when a parent sided with them.   
Lysander stuck out his tongue.   
“ _Anyway_ , where was I? Oh, yes, Scamander was being stupid. No, Michael is not the killer. Now, Scorpius, if you will?”

“See, he was done anyway.” Lysander muttered.   
Scorpius knelt by the body. “She choked on her own vomit… this chemical actually fascinates me. I wonder if constant hydration could save someone? From what I can tell, it works the same way drinking too much alcohol does, though given the vomit in the back of her throat, it _congeals_ … fascinating. But at the same time, you can tell that it isn't alcohol. Anyway, she died roughly five hours ago… look at her fingernails.”

“Oh my God there’s two of them.” Lysander hissed to his brother as Lorcan joined him at the door.   
Albus examined them. “Diggory, find Michael.”   
“I still think he murdered her.” Lysander said loudly.   
“Yes, but _I_ still think you’re stupid, and only one of us can be right.” Albus rolled his eyes.

“Listen, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from you, it’s that people don’t do stupid things when they die. Who’s to say that she didn’t find out he was killing everyone, and he killed her for it? Why waste time writing a random name?”   
Albus stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed.

“I assume you’re the same analyst for each case?” Scorpius interjected. “Do you have the lab results for the compound used?”   
“Hmm? Sure.”   
“Have you already cross-referenced it?” Scorpius asked.

“Ha!” Albus said.   
“Of course we have. We’re currently going through each person who has bought it recently and might still ingest it. It’s a bit harder than you think-- it’s used in paint.” Diggory said calmly.   
“Oh, never mind that. It will take forever. Where’s the purse? What did you do with it?”   
“It’s rude of you to assume she has a purse. Maybe she’s not the sort of woman who—” Lorcan began.

Albus walked over and shut the door in his face. “So. Purse. Diggory, where is it?”   
“She hasn’t got one.”   
“Excuse me? A woman who loves her work this much, yet has absolutely no pockets? Diggory, please use your atrophied brain. She has a purse. Her purse has a phone. Likely, the phone involves Michael. Must I spell it out further?”   
“No.” Diggory said. “But there wasn’t a purse.”

Albus narrowed his eyes. “Diggory, it was bright pink. How did you miss it?”   
“We didn’t miss it, it’s simply not here.”   
Albus paused in disbelief for a moment before his entire face lit up. “Oh, she was clever. I love it when they’re clever. Diggory, they don’t take the pills of their own volition. Clever, clever, clever.” He turned and ran out of the room.

“Did… did you understand that?” Scorpius asked gently.   
“No. That’s just how he is. Ah, but don’t worry. He only takes people he likes to crime scenes.”   
“He’s brought people to crime scenes before? Wait, no, I’m not encouraging this, we’re just flatmates.”   
Diggory winked. “Just like those lads on the BBC Radio One. And no, he hasn’t. You’re special.”

“Not so special, considering he left his boyfriend here.”   
“What? Oh _no_ …” Scorpius rose to his feet, and followed Lorcan downstairs.   
“He’s long gone, off on one of those crazy ideas of his.” Lorcan sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry. You seem like an alright bloke, I don’t know what you’re doing with him.”   
“He has a flat in central London where the rent is 300 pounds per week.” Scorpius pointed out. “Also, he’s really, really cute.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. “Right. Just… he’s not… how do I put this…? I constantly live in fear that he will become a serial killer and we will never know because of how much we rely on him, until he murders us all in our beds.”   
Scorpius stared at him.   
“Okay, bad way of putting it. My point is, there’s no real reason for him to be here. We certainly don’t pay him. He just showed up one day, bouncing around a crime scene like a kid at Christmas. It’s not decent. Just stay away from him, alright?”

“I kind of live with him.” Scorpius said.   
Lorcan chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, before saying, “Who lives with a complete stranger? He doesn’t need the money, from what you told me he’s getting the deal of a lifetime. He runs around in fucking _suits_. He’s a… well, it’s not my place to say. Just be careful. Do you need help getting a cab?”

“No, thank you. But you’re very kind.” Scorpius then gestured to his scrubs. “Uh… what do I do with these?”   
“Here, I’ll take them. Lys might be a bit pissy for a few days about you taking his job, but he’s a good bloke really. Best brother I could ask for.”   
“I’m sure he is—unfortunately, my own brother is a bit of a ponce. Thank you for everything, and good luck with the case.”   
“Well, I mean, we’re not going to solve it before Fr… Albus. Never have, never will, not when he gets like that. But thanks.”

Scorpius waved goodbye, then made his way back to the road. He was on his way down to the nearest tube station when an unmarked black car stopped next to him.   
“Not in the mood to be kidnapped right now…” Scorpius muttered to himself.   
The passenger door in the front seat opened, and a man with dark skin and auburn hair in the driver’s seat said, “Get in.”

“No thank you.” Scorpius replied.   
“I’ll give you a ride back to Baker Street.”   
“Oh, wonderful. You know where I am planning to live. Well sir, as much as I would like to take you up on your offer, there is also the possibility that you will kill me and sell my organs and wear my skin. So, nothing personal, but I have an oyster card with a small dog on it and I will use it.”   
The man scoffed. “I promise I’m not going to do anything bad. By the way, have we met? You seem vaguely familiar.”   
Scorpius’ mouth was a thin line, and the man started. “What the fu…”   
“Listen, strange man with an unmarked car. I have taken enough classes on stranger danger that that trick will not work on me. Neither will the offer of candy. Or… I don’t know, I am not well-versed on the modus operandi of paedophiles anymore.”

“You are a grown man, and my intentions are pure. I just want to make sure that Albus ends up okay.”   
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Scorpius entered the car, and the man stared at him.   
“Who… who are you, anyway?” The man asked.   
“Dr. Scorpius Malfoy.”

“Are you related to an Orpheus Malfoy?” The man asked.   
Scorpius scowled, and the man rolled his eyes. “Never mind, I see it. So what are you doing with Albus?”   
“Well, he needs a flatmate.”   
“He needs a babysitter. Tell me, are you a junkie?”   
“Wh-no! Alright, _maybe_ sugar counts but it is in no way a hard drug and _you_ try eating just one Cadbury’s!”

The man covered a smile. “Oh my god, the secret sugar addiction too?”   
“Well, my family has a bit of a… bad reaction to sugar sometimes. Besides, as a doctor, it’s not entirely healthy. Anyway, I’ll do my best to take care of Albus.”   
“I’m glad. Make sure he takes care of you as well though, alright?”   
“Mm. Who _are_ you, by the way?”

“Oh, just the son of Albus’ worst enemy. So he says, anyway.” The man said lightly.   
“You look our age!”   
“Two years older, but close.”   
Scorpius sighed. “Regardless, that must be an old enemy he has.”   
“Ooh, don’t let him hear you say that. He’s still super spry. Hey, is Albus still working with the police?”   
“In a fashion.”

“Mm. You know what, you don’t seem entirely terrible. If you report on Albus weekly to me, or at least just keep me updated on what he’s doing, I’ll give you… twenty quid per report.”   
Scorpius narrowed his eyes. “I can’t be bought. Especially for twenty quid.”   
“Right, right. 200, then?”   
“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Oh, everyone can be bought. 200,000? Per report?”   
“I think you’ll find there are much better things that you can do with your money.”   
The man shrugged. “We’re here. Keep your word about keeping him safe, will you?”   
“Safe and uncorrupted.” Scorpius purposefully over enunciated the last word.   
The man shrugged. “Bit late for that, in my opinion. Are you two coming over for Christmas?”

Scorpius shook his head, before closing the car door.


	4. It's totally a date, guys

“Where have you been?” Albus asked.   
“I could ask you the same question… what’s that smell?” Scorpius sniffed.   
Albus pointed to a bright pink handbag leaning against the coffee table. “It was in the bin a while. I washed up though. Not the point. The point is, I didn’t find her phone.”

“Well that’s one lead gone.” Scorpius sighed. “You can’t win them all. Do you want some tea?”   
“No, and don’t get comfortable. I found something better—her phone number. She planted the phone on him. Her. Mustn’t stereotype.”   
“How do you know they haven’t gotten rid of it already?” Scorpius asked.

Albus scoffed. “They don’t know they have it. I told you, she was clever. She knew she was going to die—how did she know that? Hmm… must investigate. Not now though. My phone is out of battery and I have been waiting for you to return. Kindly send a message saying, ‘I must have blacked out in Lauriston Gardens. I can’t remember a thing. Would you please return my phone?’ And then wait a minute.”

“What’s the number?”   
Albus handed him the ‘please return’ tag that had been on her purse.   
“Okay and… sent. Should I start drafting the next message?”   
“Yes. This is incredibly important. I need you to text, specifically, ‘Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.’”

Scorpius dutifully did so, and Albus peered at him. “So… who gave you the ride? That wasn’t a cab.”   
“Oh. The son of your arch-enemy, apparently.”  
Albus scowled. “Oh, _him_. Interfering busybody.”   
“He offered me _money_ to spy on you.”   
“Oh, I hope you didn’t take it. It was a test of character—he’s broke. Well, not broke, but certainly not wealthy enough to cough up large sums.”

“He said two hundred thousand quid per report, which would have been potentially per _week_.”   
Albus burst out laughing. “He has always had such an active imagination. They both have.”   
“Your… arch-enemy…?”   
“No. His children.”

“Are you saying I could get kidnapped again?” Scorpius asked warily.   
Albus waved him off. “It’s not a problem.” He then crossed his arms, causing the sleeve to ride up. Pale patches were revealed, and Scorpius was _very_ sure that they had not been there when he left.   
“What are those?”   
“Hmm? Oh, nicotine patches. There’s only so much smoking I can do, especially in modern London. Also people don’t appreciate when I vape.”   
Scorpius got up, pushed the sleeve back, and scowled at Albus. “Albus Potter, there are _three_ nicotine patches on you.”

“I _need_ three.”   
“I was unaware that you were a chain-smoker.”   
“They help me think.”

Scorpius sighed. “Fine, I suppose we can try to wean you off of the tobacco industry at a later time. But… wait, how did the killer not realize that the purse was in the car?”   
“Oh, busy busy… did you say car? Why did you say car?”   
“Well, it wouldn’t have been a short walk, the Ministry isn’t near Lauriston Gardens and Madame Umbridge isn’t the sort to live in that area. The tube would have drawn too much attention.”

“But the car…” Albus stared straight ahead. “Why is that important? Of course she was in a car. Ministry car? Hmm… we’ll come back to that. Here’s what we _know_ ; the killer took her to Lauriston Gardens. She died. The killer had the purse. A very distinctive purse. Thrown away, they couldn’t be seen with it. I just had to check the dumpsters to find it. We know she planted the phone _on_ the driver… probably left it in the cab, separate from the rest of the purse.”   
“Well, you’re brilliant, but how do we know they’ll reply?”

“Because they’re panicking. If you had just killed someone, and they suddenly text, you’d be in a blind state of panic yourself.”   
“Well… true… but why text back? Why not throw away the phone?”   
“Because if they believe Dolores Umbridge is still alive, they believe they’ve been caught. Trying to bargain with her is the only way.”

Scorpius shrugged. “Personally, I’d flee to Switzerland.”   
“They don’t know if… I’m sorry, why Switzerland?”   
“Oh, my maternal grandmother is from there. I am trilingual.”   
“Hm. Get your coat, you’ll need it.”   
“Right. Oh, have you told Diggory?”

“Why?” Albus asked him blankly. “What does Diggory have to do with this?”   
“Wait, what do you mean by _this_?” Scorpius asked as Albus handed him his coat and cane, before tying a scarf around his neck.   
Albus rolled his eyes. “We can’t fill the restaurant with police, Panju would never forgive me.”   
“Who…?” Scorpius began as Albus pulled him out of the door.

“Come on, we’re walking. It’s good for your leg.”   
Scorpius stopped, standing firmly. “Albus, before we go, Lorcan Scamander said that you ‘bounce around crime scenes like a kid on Christmas’. Albus, do you _like_ this?”   
“Pfft. No. Okay, maybe a little. Okay, maybe a lot.” Albus began chipping away at one of his fingernails, keeping his eyes on Scorpius.

Scorpius sighed. “Albus, why do you like it?”   
Albus glanced around. “I like feeling useful. And it’s fascinating.”   
“Would you ever hurt anyone?” Scorpius asked gently.   
Albus recoiled. “ _No_! Never! I know that the Scamanders think I would, but there’s no fun in committing your own crime. I’m-I’m still human, no matter what they think.”

Scorpius pulled him into a hug. “I know you are. Thank you for your honesty, I know it must have been hard for you to be so vulnerable with a near stranger.”   
After a moment, Albus hugged him back. “Well, we’re not strangers. We’re flatmates. C’mon. We’re nearly there, Northumberland Street is just a short walk.”   
Scorpius took his hand, ostensibly because Albus seemed to have forgotten his gloves and it was a cold night. Albus looked at him in surprise, but allowed it.

“Albus, why would he go to Northumberland Street?”   
“He wants to get caught, at least a small part of him does. Or her, but statistically… anyway, the killer wants to caught, because then they get attention. Then they get the whispered awe. They get all they wanted.”   
Albus looked down, and Scorpius pulled their entwined hands into his coat pocket, drawing them closer. Those hands were just _so_ cold.

“Think, think… he took them from crowded streets, did you realize? Who do we trust on streets?”   
“Policemen?” Scorpius said, massaging Albus’ hand gently with his thumb.   
“Mm… not necessarily. Who hunts in an open crowd, unnoticed?”   
“Pickpockets? Vendors?”

“What? No no no. Hm. Scorpius, have you ever seen a government car?”   
“Yes, I have. In passing.”   
“Well, it checks out for Umbridge and Davenport. Sir Jeffrey, maybe. But the _second one_ , James Phillimore… he had nothing to do with the government. It wouldn’t have been a government car that came round for him.”

“Not for any of them, they’re not royalty.” Scorpius noted.   
Albus conceded the point. “But where did they all go? What did they get into?”   
“Any buses running that late?”   
“No.”   
Scorpius sighed, before smiling. “I have faith in you. I know you’ll solve this.”   
Albus’ throat felt dry again. And his stomach felt like it was being skipped across the Thames like a stone. But it was all strangely… pleasant? He must look into this. Perhaps Scorpius used a product that he was allergic to.

“Hungry?” Albus asked. (It was _not_ a squeak. It was a very masculine and confident question.)   
“Sure, I could eat. It also looks like a good place to watch out for the killer.”   
Albus nodded. “Number twenty-two is right across the street. A table please?”   
A grinning man swept over. “Albus, good to see you!”   
“Panju, how is the restaurant coming along?”

The man rolled his eyes. “I hate that name. It’s like if I called you Man, or Wight, or Hebrides.”   
“I have never once been to the Hebrides, Panju.”   
“Whatever, Wight.” Panju laughed, before offering Scorpius his hand. “I’m Pryansh Bhatnagar. Wight and I are sort of friends, he got me off trial for murder. And we’re cousins, that too.”

“He’s Rose’s half-brother.” Albus said. “And I got him off by proving that he was setting off illegal fireworks in Hyde Park.”   
“Still got me off, cousin.” Panju ruffled Albus’ hair.   
“You’re using your stepfather’s surname, why do you still consider me your cousin?” Albus asked.

“Because blood is the same, no matter the name. Anyway, your boyfriend’s cute. Where’d you find him? Am I the first to meet him?”   
“He met Rose, but not Hugo. And he apparently met James.”   
“Say no more. What’s your name, boyfriend?”   
Scorpius smiled awkwardly. “I’m his flatmate--”  
“Wow, and I thought Wight had a horrible name. Wight, how did you find someone with a worse name than you?”

Albus sighed. “His name isn’t _that_ bad…”   
“Albus. Severus. Potter.” Panju was very clearly enjoying this.   
“Well, mine is, but his name is Scorpius.”

Panju narrowed his eyes, but kept grinning. “Better. But I still believe his name is Flatmate, because that’s what he said. His mouth says ‘sharing the rent’ but his eyes say, ‘sharing the bed’. Am I right, or am I _right_?”   
Scorpius was scarlet. “We just met.”

“Say no more, I know just what to do for a first date.” Panju disappeared into the kitchen.   
“Half-brother?” Scorpius asked.   
Albus shrugged. “Uncle Ron impregnated a woman named Padma Patil, but they broke up before they ever got married. He married Aunt Hermione instead, and she married Eshan Bhatnagar. They lived on the island of Panju for a while, that’s how Pryansh got his nickname.”

“Wait, where have I heard the name ‘Hermione’ before…?”   
Albus sipped his water. “The Prime Minister? Hermione Granger.”   
“Yeah, I believe… wait, isn’t Rose’s last name Granger-Weasley?”

Albus nodded. “Daughter of the Prime Minister. They have the _best_ Christmases.”   
Scorpius stared at him. “Wow. I was… not expecting that.”   
Albus shrugged. “Shall we order? I was thinking the chicken scaloppini.”   
“Well, you’ve been here more times than I have. Is that what you recommend?”

Albus shrugged. “It sort of leans to my own taste. Pryansh would say that the beef bourguignon is the best, but I’m not in the mood for red meat.”   
“Hmm… I think I’ll get it then. It’s been a while since I have had some good quality beef—it’s a bit hard in the army. I’ll pay though, of course.” Scorpius said hurriedly. “You’re already doing so much—”

“Wight, this is not how you treat a significant other.” Pryansh swept over holding a candle.   
“We’re not dating, Panju!” Albus hissed.   
“Well, not with that attitude, you’re not.” Pryansh tutted. “Look at him. Look at his sweet baby face. Why are you pushing him away?”

“I am actually a hardened war veteran.” Scorpius said.   
“With the face of a cherub.” Pryansh replied smoothly. “There. I’ve probably given you more compliments than Wight ever has. I might just steal you if he’s intent on being like this.”   
“Oh, we’re not dating.” Scorpius said gently, staring at the candle to avoid looking at Pryansh or Albus. Pryansh waggled his eyebrows and handed Scorpius a slip of paper. “Well then.”

He then sauntered away, and Albus scowled. “He gave you his number, didn’t he?”   
“Mm-hmm.” Scorpius had pulled out his phone and was putting it in.   
“Wh-what are you doing?” Albus asked, trying not to sound desperate. Of course Scorpius liked Pryansh better, everyone did.  
“I’m putting in his number, I thought it was obvious? He seems quite nice, and I’d love to meet more of your family. Besides, I don’t have many contacts as is.”   
Albus’ scowl deepened. “Fine.”

“So, why does everyone and their mother think we’re making the beast with two backs?” Scorpius asked suddenly.”   
Albus, who had been in the middle of a mouthful of water, nearly spat it out. “ _What_?”   
“That we know each other biblically. That we’re in the midst of a one-footed sock hop.”   
“I feel that the last one isn’t actually a euphemism for sex.”

“It should be.”   
“Mm… well, girlfriends… they aren’t really my area.” Albus was staring out the window, giving 22 Northumberland Street all of his attention.   
“What about boyfriends…?” Scorpius asked, trying to act indifferent and failing miserably.   
“No. I’m unattached at the moment.”   
“So am I.”

“I know.”   
A balled up bit of paper landed in Albus’ lap. He turned around, looking for the assailant. Pryansh was in the corner, making small, ‘open it’ movements with his hands. Albus acquiesced, only to find Pryansh had apparently written in block letters, ‘OH MY GOD, JUST KISS HIM ALREADY. I HAVE FIVE POUNDS RIDING ON THIS, JUST LET ONE OF US GET LUCKY TONIGHT’.

Albus glared at Pryansh, before ripping up the note and turning back to Scorpius. “It’s only fair that you should know, I consider myself married to my work.”   
Scorpius visibly deflated. “Oh, I see. I-I mean… I get it.”   
“Yes. However, I have it on good authority that Pryansh is available.” Albus was reasonably certain that was what Pryansh had meant by getting ‘lucky’. He was also certain that Pryansh’s eyes were burning into his back.

Sure enough, another note came sailing into his lap. ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING HE CLEARLY LIKES YOU THIS IS LIKE THE CHANCES OF A SHINY ARCEUS FALLING INTO YOUR LAP WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU DO YOU NOT LIKE ANGEL-FACED BOYS???’   
Albus burned this one on the candle. “Panju compared you to a shiny arceus, whatever that is.”   
Scorpius let out a low whistle. “Wow. And what do you think?”

“I think if you two like each other so much, you should just text him and stop having me be a middle man.”   
“Truth be told, Albus, in terms of romantic attraction, I like you a lot better.”   
Albus stared at him, then his phone pinged in his pocket. “Excuse me.”

Rose had sent him a text saying, ‘GET IT’   
‘How do you even know what I am doing?’   
‘Panju is live-blogging your date on Twitter. Did Scorpius really just have to spell out that he likes you?’   
‘How many people follow Panju?’   
‘That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that our entire family does. Including Granny and Granddad. And your dad.’

Albus slowly lowered his phone to make eye contact with Scorpius, who was smiling at him uncertainly. “I understand that this doesn’t change anything about the ‘married-to-your-work’ business, and I respect that…” He trailed off, following Albus’ line of sight to a car stopped outside twenty two Northumberland Street.

Albus then rose, heading for the door. Pryansh moved to intercept him, and then Albus offered Scorpius a hand. “Coming?”   
“You didn’t order anything!” Pryansh yelled as Albus and Scorpius ran off, before pulling out his phone and typing quickly.   
Albus and Scorpius, meanwhile, were heading towards the taxi. Scorpius had his arm wrapped around Albus’, keeping them both at a sedate pace.

“He’s getting away.” Albus said through clenched teeth.   
“And you’re going to scare him off.” Scorpius hissed back, though he had plastered a serene smile on his face. “Act natural.”   
“This isn’t what I normally do.”   
“Well, pretend.”

They had just reached the car when one of the passengers tapped on the glass partition, and the car sped off.   
“So much for acting natural.” Scorpius sighed. “Did you get the cab number?”   
“No, but I know where they’re headed. Follow me.” Albus grabbed Scorpius’ hand, and pulled him on a mad dash up a fire escape, across a roof, a jump across to the next (this was where Albus lost his hold on Scorpius, but Scorpius kept up) down another fire escape, across a road, and through several alleyways until Albus simply hurtled himself at the car.

“Albus!” Scorpius yelled, before dashing forward. Albus, seemingly okay, pulled a police badge from the depths of his coat, then opened the passenger door. Inside, two women (twins, actually) were unimpressed.   
“What is the reason for this?” One asked, tapping her foot.   
“Time is being wasted.” Another agreed.

“No, no, no… what are you, American?”   
“From Massachusetts.” The first agreed.   
“We just flew in, will this take long?”   
“Our father _is_ actually dying, you know.”

Scorpius meanwhile had pulled open the driver’s door.   
“Scorpius, what are you doing? This was a false lead.” Albus huffed.   
Scorpius pointed at the driver, “But—”   
“No, can you deal with…?” Albus waved at the women in the cab.

Scorpius came over. “We’re Scotland Yard. So sorry, madams. There’s a killer on the loose, and we were just making sure that you were alright. Can’t be too careful nowadays. Anyway, welcome to London, please enjoy your stay.”   
“First trip?” Albus continued lightly.   
“Dying father, not the time.” Scorpius whispered. “Also if these women just flew in, they’re not responsible.”   
“Hmm.” Albus then promptly walked away, and Scorpius saluted them. “Sorry again about that. Any problems, just let us know.”

Scorpius hurried after Albus. “So what about the cab driver…?”   
Albus slowly looked at him. “The cab driver?”   
“Well, we already established that the killer was driving them around. Why use a cab?” Scorpius asked.   
Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. “The _cab driver_! There’s always some… actually, it may be time to run now.”

One of the twins appeared to have flagged down a real police officer and was tapping her high-heeled foot impatiently.   
“Just flash the badge at him!” Scorpius said as they dashed down an alleyway.   
“I _can’t_ , he might read it! It’s not actually mine!”   
“You _stole_ a police badge?!”

“Diggory was being highly annoying! I do that whenever he pisses me off. He actually tried giving me a box of them last Christmas.” Albus pulled down a fire escape, then helped Scorpius up. Scorpius then pulled him up.   
They didn’t stop running until they got back to Baker Street.   
“I think we lost them.” Scorpius leaned against the wall, panting.

Albus joined him, grinning. “Fun, right?”   
“Fun, yes, but also ridiculous. I invaded Afghanistan, and _that_ was one of the most ridiculous things I had ever done.” Scorpius grinned back. “Are we going back?”   
“No, Panju will keep an eye out for me. Long-shot anyway.”   
“So why were we there…?” Scorpius prodded gently.

“Because I was proving a point. Where’s your cane?”   
“Wh… oh, I must have left it back at the restaurant.” Scorpius frowned. “I’m sorry, I’ll foot it back—”   
“Why? You don’t need it. You just ran across a fair portion of London, jumping from roof to roof, without it. You’re amazing the way that you are.”   
“So I guess I can sell this on eBay?” Someone new interrupted.

Albus and Scorpius looked away from each other to see Panju smirking at them, holding Scorpius’ cane.   
“So, flat upstairs?” Albus asked.   
“Oh, yes I think I shall.” Scorpius said. “And thank you, Pryansh, for returning my cane.”   
“No problem, I needed the walk.” Pryansh then turned on his heel towards Northumberland Street. Over his shoulder, he then called, “Remember to use a condom!” Then he continued walking away, laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been using the transcript of Ariane De Vere on LiveJournal. Check it out if you need a good Sherlock transcript!


	5. The End, I guess?

“Mrs. Figg! Scorpius will _definitely_ be taking the upstairs room!” Albus called.  
Mrs. Figg hurried down the stairs. “Oh, Albus, what have you done now? Did you relapse…?”  
“Relapse?” Scorpius asked as Albus took the stairs two at a time.  
Mrs. Figg sighed, and Scorpius heard yelling upstairs. He followed Albus, once again leaving his cane behind.

“—my flat!” Albus hissed.  
“Albus, please. You can’t withhold evidence.” Diggory sighed.  
“I wasn’t withholding evidence! I was in the middle of solving it!”  
Diggory pursed his lips. “Albus, I give you a lot of leeway already. This is _our_ case that I allow you to _help_ with. You have to understand that.”

“What’s going on?” Scorpius asked.  
Albus crossed his arms. “The _good policemen_ of Scotland Yard grew impatient and decided to raid our flat! Under the pretence of a _drug bust_ , no less!”  
“It stops being a pretence if we find anything.” Diggory said quietly.

 Albus’ eyes widened, and he looked at Scorpius quickly, before giving Diggory his deepest glare.  
“He’s not a junkie, have you met him? He’s-he’s brilliant, he wouldn’t throw away his life like that.” Scorpius interjected.  
Lorcan inhaled sharply. “Listen, we need to talk…”  
“No, he’s… the cab conversation.” Scorpius sighed, passing a hand over his eyes. “Albus, when they’re gone, we need to have a long conversation. And I will personally search every nook and cranny.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve been clean for five full months now.” Albus growled.  
Diggory smiled slightly. “I know. I’m proud of you.”  
“You don’t have any right to be proud of me! You’re in here, digging around my flat, _maligning my character_ , and forcing a conclusion as though I’ve been skiving off for days!”  
“I know. But I am still proud of you.”

Albus frowned, then looked away. “Scamander! What are you doing here?! Now I have to move because you were in my house!”  
“That’s really rude.” Lorcan sighed, as Lysander stuck his head out of the kitchen and smirked. “We volunteered.”  
“They all did.” Diggory explained. “Just… work with us, once, instead of going off on your own like this. If we only have some sign that you will cooperate, I’ll call it all off.”

“With all due respect, Detective Inspector, you asked for _his_ help. You can’t force it, and you can’t have it done your way, or you would have done it yourself.” Scorpius remarked in clipped tones. “Exploiting one of his weaknesses is a terrible thing to do in my opinion, and quite frankly, you should be ashamed of yourself.”  
Everyone turned to stare at him.

“M-me?” Diggory asked.  
“Unless I am mistaken, _you_ ordered the raid. Even if you allowed the vitriol of the Scamander twins to persuade you, _you_ are still their commanding officer. Are you, or are you not, responsible for the actions of your precinct?” Scorpius’ voice was much colder than it had been in a long time.  
“Scorpius, I hear what you’re saying, but listen. Diggory is the _nicest_ DI anyone could ask for. He even gets him—” Here Lorcan gestured at Albus, and got a glare in return, “—Christmas presents.”

Scorpius shrugged, then moved behind Albus, glaring at Diggory the entire time.  
“We found Michael.” Diggory sighed.

“Good, I’ll talk to him at Scotland Yard.” Albus had apparently recovered, and moved to the door.  
“He’s been dead for three years.” Diggory said. “Separated from Umbridge years before that.”  
“What? Explain. Now.” Albus ordered.  
Diggory sighed. “Michael Umbridge was her younger brother. He was mentally impaired, and when her parents split up, they each took one child with them. Umbridge hadn’t seen her brother in years, and three years ago… well, his mum kind of went a bit mad and smothered him in his sleep.”

“Well, that’s no help.” Albus tutted. “Find me a different, more relevant Michael. She can’t have been thinking about him.”  
“She wasn’t thinking of her little brother she hadn’t seen in years in her last moments? You really are a sociopath.” Lysander rolled his eyes.  
Lorcan punched his shoulder gently. “Didn’t _you_ say that she had a purpose in doing this?”

Albus swept his arm towards Lorcan. “Yes. He absorbed all the brains in the womb. She had _time_ , Idiot Scamander. She had time to give us a _clue_ to her _murderer_. It took effort, and it took pain. Why mention Michael?”  
“Maybe the killer uses personal tragedy to persuade them…?” Scorpius theorized.

Albus waved him off, sinking into a chair. “That was _years_ ago. Why would she still care?”  
Everyone stared at him, and Scorpius sighed. “Albus…”  
“What? Oh. Not good?” Albus looked around, before resting his eyes on Scorpius.  
Scorpius nodded. “Just a bit.”  
Albus made eye contact with him, before bringing his hands together in front of his face. “How do I put this… what would you say if you were about to die? What would you do?”

“I’d make sure Lys got out okay.” Lorcan answered.  
“I’d make sure Lorcan got out okay.” Lysander said at the same time. The twins looked at each other, then frowned.  
Diggory cut off their argument before it could begin. “It depends, really. I might call Cho, or pray for her to be alright.”

“I’d pray to survive.” Scorpius said quietly.  
“Boring! Boring, all of you! Use some imagination!” Albus huffed.  
“I don’t have to.” Scorpius said, making eye contact with him.  
Albus froze. That dry feeling in his throat was back, but no longer quite so pleasant.

Scorpius looked out the window. “It seems so selfish now… especially when… you know what? I think I have to go. I still need to pay my bills, collect my things… I’ll be back tomorrow. Thank you for curing my limp, and everything.”  
“No, no, stop, I’m just trying to say that she was telling us something. She wasn’t just… she had the usual prayer-thing you all mentioned, then she got down to business.”

“Albus, your cab is here.” Mrs. Figg popped in the door.  
“I didn’t order a cab. All of you, shush now. Scamander, face the wall.”  
“Which one?” Lorcan asked.  
“The other one. His face is putting me off.”  
Lorcan raised an eyebrow, but Lysander did it nonetheless.

“I’ll take the cab, Mrs. Figg. I must go collect my things anyway.” Scorpius said quietly.  
Albus took him by the shoulders and escorted him to the armchair. “Oh, no no no. Sit down. I’m about to be clever. We didn’t find a laptop, and we know Umbridge was entirely career oriented. Phone is looking good right now. We know she planted it on him, didn’t we? Well, I did, anyway.” He bounded off and got his laptop, before motioning for Diggory to come closer. “She has business cards, yes? Yes. Email, please.”

“Er… [djumbridge@mod.gov.uk](mailto:djumbridge@mod.gov.uk).” Diggory read off.  
“And I believe all of us have realised that the password _is_ …?” Albus smirked.  
“Michael.” Everyone said together.  
Albus rubbed his hands together in anticipation, then entered the email and password into the tracking site.  
“Um…” Scorpius began.  
“Maybe…?” Diggory looked around the room.

Albus scowled. “ _Impossible_. It is most certainly _not_ here!”  
“Well, I’m fairly certain we all agree that the killer had the phone.” Lysander pointed out.  
“Scamander, go stand in the Corner of Shame. It’s the one without wallpaper, as it is meant to shame you. And me, for not putting up wallpaper like I promised. Regardless, the point is, why would I be so stupid? Why would I bring Scorpius into my home the day that one of my hypothetical victims potentially outed me? Why not lead you all on a wild goose chase while I disintegrated the evidence?”

“How would you disintegrate anything?” Lorcan demanded.  
“I put an incredibly potent acid in the dish soap container when I ran out. It has done _wonders_ for my cleaning, let me tell you.”  
“ _Acid_?” Lorcan repeated, while Scorpius asked, “ _You_ clean?”

Albus looked mildly hurt. “I don’t enjoy squalor.”  
“Diggory, he is using _acid_ on his dishes.” Lorcan said.  
“I heard.” Diggory sighed.  
Scorpius smiled gently at Albus. “I just thought you were incredibly busy. You have important work, after all.”  
Lysander clapped his hands sharply. “ _Hello_ , there’s a murder afoot? We have no time for disintegrative dish soap or awkward romance.”

“Albus, what shall I tell the cab driver?” Mrs. Figg asked.  
“I’ll take it—” Scorpius tried to say, before Albus abruptly cut him off. “No! No, it’s… it’s my cab. It’s for me. All mine.”  
“Where are you going?” Diggory asked.  
Albus looked around the room for a moment. “I… I just remembered, my grandparents are coming into town. I promised to help them with their bags.”

“Mother’s, or Father’s side?” Diggory asked.  
Albus froze. “Mother’s.”  
“Hmm. And I suppose, a certain mortician, a restaurant owner, a politician, a reporter, an assistant, not one but _two_ joke shop owners, an MI-5 agent, and _the bloody Prime Minister_ are all unavailable?” Diggory asked.  
Albus scowled. “Well, Aunt Hermione definitely is. Rose is on a date, Panju has a busy night tonight—I already checked—Mum is… I don’t know, but I’m sure she’s busy. James probably has his boss riding his arse again—”  
“Poor choice of words…” Lorcan murmured. Albus glared at him, before continuing, “Uncle Ron and Uncle George are going to roll out a new line of products soon, and as for that last one, I don’t bloody know where he is. And I don’t care. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to the airport before Granddad tries to make friends with the bloody TSA.”

With that, he stomped out of the apartment. As soon as he was gone, Diggory opened up another tab on the computer, typed in ‘Heathrow domestic flights arrivals’, with a few clicks, he raised an eyebrow. “Well, Lorcan, quiz time: where do Albus’ grandparents live?”  
“Er… Devon?”  
“Correct. So why is the most domestic flight I can find on here from Glasgow?”

Scorpius paled. “Go back to the phone tracker.”  
It was no longer at 221B Baker Street. And it was moving.  
\---------------------

“So, Scorpius was right.” Albus said as the cab began to move.  
“Was that his name? I half thought he was you at first.” The cabbie remarked.  
“Mm. I don’t suppose you’d tell the police you did it?”  
“I could. I would, actually. If that was actually what you wanted.”

Albus raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And I suppose you think I want suicide, _Rowle_?”  
“You want to know how I did it, don’t you?” Rowle grinned, baring sharp teeth. “And I’m disappointed, it took you this long to notice me. I knew you almost at once—you forget, you’re not the first Potter to run after my car. I honestly thought you were him for a moment.”  
“Well, I’m not up to date on all of my father’s old cases. I’d go mad trying to remember them all.” Albus scoffed. “And _please_. Didn’t the coat give it away?”

“Mm. It’s funny, though. Didn’t everyone think your brother would be the one to follow your father? And here you are.”  
“Don’t be stupid. He never would have gotten in the car in the first place.” Albus snapped. “Besides, I’m completely different from him!”  
“Oh? I’m the stupid one? I didn’t get in a car with a serial killer, ducks.”

Albus rolled his eyes. “So, why are we here? You can’t possibly be returning to crime, you wouldn’t go after the son of the man who locked you up so _late_ in the game.”  
“Ah, got yourself a fan, y’have. Not as strong as old Moldy Voldy, y’understand, but still, quite a piece of work.”  
“But the others?”  
“I get paid for each of ‘em. I’m going to get paid a _shitload_ for you.”  


\-------------------

“Taxi!” Scorpius called, running out into the middle of the street.  
“What are you, mad?!” One yelled, screeching to a halt in front of him.  
Scorpius climbed into the passenger seat in the front, clutching his phone. “Um… this address, please?”

“Mate, I can’t!”  
“Please! I’ll pay double! A good man’s life is on the line!”  
A new voice from the backseat piped up. “Oh my! How exciting! Let’s accompany this young man.”

“Wha… ma’am, what about your great-niece?”  
“Well, she’ll be much the same, I expect. Well, go on, man. I’m only loose from the home for so long!”  
The cab’s wheels squealed as it took off at top speed.

\-----------------

“Well, we’re here.” Rowle opened Albus’ door for him, giving a deep mock-bow.  
Albus scoffed. “And you suppose I’ll just let you murder me?”  
Rowle drew a gun. “Way’s I see it, y’have a choice the other way. Eh?”  
“Of course, except I am not threatened by fake guns. What does that do, squirt water?” Albus snarked.  
Rowle smirked. “Smart one. But you still want to know how I did it?”

“…fine.” Albus huffed, following him into the building.  
“Y’know what they say—curiosity killed the cat.” Rowle remarked conversationally as they entered the building. Roughly twenty minutes later, Scorpius’ cab pulled up.  
“Well, we’re here…” The cabbie said. Scorpius threw a hundred-pound note at him, wavered for a minute regarding the buildings, then chose the one on the left. He sprinted through the halls, yelling, “Albus!”

Albus, meanwhile, had strolled in a leisurely manner with Rowle to an empty classroom, avoiding the cleaners.  
“This alright?” Rowle asked. “You’re the one dying here, after all.”  
Albus leaned into his hand. “Do I really get I say in where I die?”  
Rowle grinned ferally. “No.”  
“Then what does it matter?”

Rowle shrugged. “I really hope I get to see your father’s face when they tell him. I know I won’t, but… is it too much to ask?”  
“Oh, no. But it’s probably going to be disappointing. ‘What? Albus managed to finally get himself killed? Useless bum, couldn’t he have done it sooner?’ What you really want is Aunt Hermione’s reaction. She always liked me.”  
“I can’t have the bloody Prime Minister, can I? ‘Sides, she did nuffink to me.”

Albus nodded. “True. Now, pills, please?”  
“Right, I have this rehearsed now.” Rowle pulled out a bottle, shook out a pill, then put it back. Then he took out another bottle, and did the same. He placed them an equal distance in front of Albus. “You take one, I take one.”  
“You’re willing to play with your own life like that?” Albus asked.  
Rowle smirked. Albus assumed that he did it recreationally, like some people drank or smoked, or bit their nails. Rowle’s habit was just smirking like a cartoon villain. “I’m not going back to prison, boy. I’m dying anyway. Lung cancer.”  
“They’re both poisoned?” Albus asked.  
Rowle rolled his eyes. “I got lucky. Begin.”

“Well, I have all the time in the world, since you can’t shoot me. May I make some deductions?”  
“Oh, of course. I’d be happy to hear you think.”  
Albus nodded. “Well, it’s simple, of course. I just have to deduct what I know about you. The clever man who murdered three people without a trace, and a fourth person with one, would have drawn from the poison bottle second, because he knows only a great fool would reach for what is on his right, where you have placed that pill. I am not a great fool, so I cannot take that pill. But you would have known that I’m not a great fool, so I cannot choose the other pill.”

“Done yet, are you?” Rowle asked.  
Albus chuckled. “Not at all. You were in prison, and prisoners cannot be trusted. You know this, even if you hadn’t been trying to kill me. You are used to not being trusted, so I cannot choose the pill to the left, which is the one I would be less likely to take based on my dominant hand. But again, you know this, so I cannot take the pill to my right.”  
“Bloody smart, you are.” Rowle remarked, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just warming up. Where was I?”  
“Prison. Are you stalling?”  
“What would I have to stall for?” Albus asked, raising an eyebrow. “You won against all the others, so you could have put the poison on the left, which is your right, trusting luck to save you. But you were clever to get them there in the first place, so you would have put the pill to _your_ left and _my_ right, so that you wouldn’t be so likely to take it.”

“I’m not giving anything away, Potter. It won’t work.” Rowle sighed.  
“It already _has_! You’ve given everything away!” Albus stood triumphantly.  
“Then make your choice.”  
“I will…. But unfortunately, I have a problem swallowing pills dry. I need a substantial amount of water, actually.”  
“I have a bit of gin, but that’s about it.” Rowle fixed him with a shrewd look.

Albus scowled. “I need water.”  
“It’s good gin.”  
“Water, or I’m not playing.”  
“You can’t leave the game in the mid—” Rowle was cut off by a gun shot. A second later, he slumped to the side, a gaping wound in the side of his head.

Albus slowly moved to the window, until he heard Scorpius call, “Albus?”  
He popped his head up, and made eye contact with a sick-looking Scorpius. “I was in the middle of interrogating him. But… thank you.”  
Scorpius smiled wanly. “I’m going to be sick… can you get me some water?”

“Sure.” Albus said.  
“WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE?!” A cleaner demanded, bursting into the room.  
“We need an ambulance.” Albus remarked cheerfully as Scorpius hurriedly slid the gun in his coat. “Also Scotland Yard?”

Twenty minutes later, Albus scowled as the Scamander twins took another picture of him in his shock blanket. “I promised _two_ in exchange for the marker! Not _three_! And not three _each_!”  
“Fine, here.” Lorcan handed him a pen, and Albus scribbled a ‘1’ on the pill he had chosen, clenched in his hand. Then he put it in the coat pocket with the other one, before walking over to Scorpius and Diggory. Alright, he was slowly skulking so as to eavesdrop, but ‘walking’ sounded better.

“I _know_ you did a good thing there. And Albus knows it too, even if he can’t properly show it. I imagine he’ll hardly leave your side after that.”  
Scorpius took a long gulp of his water. “I didn’t even… I had a flashback, sir. To-to the war. I didn’t take the shot then.”  
“But you did now, and that’s what mattered.”

“So many good men died.”  
“Hey, listen. Every life is precious, but the past is the past. And as for good men—Albus is a great man. And someday, if we’re truly lucky, he might even be good.”  
“It doesn’t replace them.” Scorpius breathed. “Maybe I should look for another flat.”  
Diggory gave a small smile. “Well, I think Albus quite likes where he is, and I don’t doubt that he would follow you to the ends of the earth, always one step ahead of you. When you get there, he’d be lying on your bed saying, ‘you _said_ we’d be flatmates. Where were you? I found three murderers already, and it’s not even teatime’.”

“Albus isn’t the problem. Albus is… he’s great, actually. Like some kind of superhero, or avenging angel? But… I said I’d never be responsible for another man’s death, and I… I don’t think I’m a very good doctor, for one.” Scorpius gave a bitter smile.  
Diggory looked at him for a moment, then pulled him into a tight hug. “Trust me, if you and Albus need to take a break from police work for a bit, no one would mind. He’ll take care of you, just like you’ll take care of him, yeah?”

Scorpius hugged him back. “Yeah. Thanks. Erm… do you always do this?”  
“One thing you’ve got to know about me, I’m a hugger.”  
Scorpius was released, and stumbled into Albus’ path. Albus took the shock blanket off and wrapped it around Scorpius’ shoulders. “He was going to kill me, and he was going to kill more people. You did good. Now, when we get home, I will find breathing exercises and other calming methods for you. Alright? I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I know, I just… I don’t know. How much did you hear?”  
Albus shrugged. “Not much. Now, you need to eat dinner. When’s your next appointment with your therapist?”  
“Um… Wednesday.”  
“Wednesday… I don’t think I’ll be doing anything then. I’ll take you to your appointment, and then we’ll go get some ice cream, alright? But just remember for now—you did _good_.”

Scorpius smiled wanly. “Thank you.”  
Albus pushed down the urge to kiss his forehead. “You take the bed, yours doesn’t have sheets yet. I’ll take the couch.”  
“I couldn’t do that!”  
“Shush, you’re not doing it, I’m doing it. The distance to my violin is greatly lessened when I sleep on the couch, I love doing it. I do it all the time.”

Scorpius enveloped Albus in a crushing hug. “If you’re not careful, I’m going to fall in love with you.”  
Albus swallowed. The dry feeling was pleasant again. “Would-would that be so bad?”  
Scorpius smiled a real smile at him, pushing the night’s events back for later. “No. It wouldn’t be.”  
Albus leaned down, pulling Scorpius close to him—  
“Scorpius, just so you know, I’m not going to tell the others. No point in pressing charges when you saved Albus from a serial killer, yeah?” Diggory interrupted. “You’re not likely to strike again.”

Albus shook himself out of that feeling. Scorpius smiled. “Thanks, Diggory.”  
“Alright then. Oh… was I interrupting?”  
Scorpius shook his head, still smiling. “No, of course not. We just met, what would there be to interrupt?” As he spoke though, he laced his fingers through Albus’.

They made their way past the police tape –though Scorpius had to give back the blanket—until a man ran up, wielding a paper bag from Costa Coffee.  
“Oi! I just got a text saying you were _kidnapped_ by Rowle who murdered four other people!” Scorpius’ would-be kidnapper hissed, poking Albus’ chest. “What the everloving _fuck_?!”

Albus scowled. “Well, Rowle died before I did, so I don’t know what you’re upset about.”  
“I heard it from Dad! Who heard it from Diggory!”  
“It’s not that important, James.”  
James’ eyes widened. “Not that important…!? Did-did he just say…” He turned to Scorpius, pointing straight at Albus.

“You’re important, Albus.” Scorpius said. “And Rowle—”  
“Is indisposed, so there’s no point.” Albus interrupted smoothly.  
“And you didn’t even tell me you were in danger!” James huffed. “What kind of a brother _are_ you?”  
Albus raised an eyebrow. “A terrible one. Haven’t we discussed this?”

“Mum would have my head if anything happened to you!”  
“No, then she’d only have a daughter. You had nothing to do with it.”  
James scowled, before turning to Scorpius. “And you! We just had this conversation!”  
Scorpius frowned back, stepping in between James and Albus. “Stop yelling at us. I _did_ protect him, as best I could, anyway. He’s an adult, and we’ve got each other’s backs.”

A new voice bit through the air. “Potter! Where are you?”  
A dark haired man about James’ height stalked over, scowling. Scorpius froze upon seeing him, though the man didn’t notice him immediately. “Potter, we have coffee back at the Ministry. For God’s sake, man! There’s a killer on the loose!”  
“Well, no, actually. Scorpius here disposed of him quite efficiently.” Albus pointed out.

The man turned, and his eyes widened upon seeing Scorpius, before narrowing. “You said you were finishing up your tour next month. I had everything planned out to the last detail, right?”  
“Weirdly obsessive, yes.” James agreed.  
The man nodded, satisfied. “So, you lied to me? What on Earth for?”

Scorpius ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to go back to Wiltshire. And you would do nothing short of drugging me to get me back there.”  
“No, I was planning on drugging you.” The man scoffed.  
The Potter brothers stared at him. Scorpius sighed. “Regardless, I’m not the boy I was when I left.”

“So you’re ready to apologize to Father then?” The man grinned.  
Scorpius scowled. “No. I’m not. Because I have nothing to apologize for.”  
The man frowned. “ _Nothing_? Come now, Scorpius. Besides, Mother misses you.”  
Scorpius’ grip on Albus’ hand tightened. “If she misses me so much, why didn’t she come see me? Face it, Orpheus—I’m not you, and I’m not Aurora. My transgressions are harder to forgive, and I learned the reason why long ago.”

Orpheus chewed on the inside of his cheek. “What about Opa?”  
“I have a Skype conference set up with him and Oma for Saturday.” Scorpius replied coolly. “I also have a flat, and a flatmate to go with it, and it will take more than you to get me to the West.”  
“What about Aurora?”  
“Listen, just hire a team of burly men if you’re going to have her strong arm me into going. It’s a lot simpler, and I cannot distract them with a Toblerone bar.”

Orpheus scoffed. “Scorpius, listen. You are a Malfoy, and there are certain expectations. We allowed you to… become this… and we really shouldn’t have, but we’re willing to forgive and forget—”  
James tugged on his arm. “Bad phrasing. Don’t.”  
“My point is, you have a home. You’re family.”  
Scorpius frowned at him for a good minute, before finally saying, “I do have a home, correct. But I’m going to work on building my family myself.”

“I heard you have… problems.” Orpheus said. James smacked his forehead, muttering, “Don’t…”  
Scorpius scoffed. “Yeah, everyone does. Oh, I suppose you mean the PTSD? Guess what, Orpheus. I’m going to work as hard as I can to have a normal life. I’m going to be so freaking happy, you won’t even recognise me. I’m going to make this all without the Malfoy family hovering behind me, _just out of spite_. I can live without you, and I can do so without warfare.”

He then turned and pulled Albus into a sharp kiss.  
“That’s our cue to leave, I think…” Albus said, touching his lips gently. “Bye, James.”  
Scorpius’ farewell to his own brother was two fingers in the air.  
Orpheus gasped. “Such vulgarity!”  
James frowned at him. “We make out literally all the time.”  
“No, I meant the fingers.”

“Well, we _have_ been talking about subtlety. And you _did_ mention your brother wasn’t so fond of you.”  
Orpheus looked crestfallen. “I just want him to come home.”  
James gave him a gentle kiss. “Subtlety. Now come on, I got you the coffee you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Yes, I did pull the Princess Bride reference. And yes, both pills were poisonous. Rowle was going to have an immunity, if not for Scorpius' 'Gordian Knot' approach.  
> 2) I know headshots are hard. But Rowle was at a 90 degree angle to Scorpius in my blocking. Probably not in the actual show, though.  
> 3) Chapter Three's title wasn't just about Scorpius dating Albus. This is future BAON OC baby, Orpheus [Redacted] Malfoy.  
> 4) Scorpius typed in the phone tracking on _his_ phone and ran off.


End file.
